


The Itch, The Scratch and Red Velvet

by fannyvonfabulus



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Cake, Clint bakes, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, lots and lots of cake, pining!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannyvonfabulus/pseuds/fannyvonfabulus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint pines, Natasha is exasperated and the Avengers love cake. Especially Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Itch, The Scratch and Red Velvet

**Author's Note:**

> So I came up with this whilst I was eating cake. Its another ridiculous fluff story. And alot of cake.
> 
> I always swore I'd never write these two as they're be absolute favourite pairing but I couldn't get it out of my mind so here it is. My thanks go to bennysemma, as always, for making sure I got these two right.
> 
> All my writing has musical cues, hence the track listing at the beginning.
> 
> As always, any and all comments gratefully received. I beta'd this myself so please point out any glaring errors that I have more than likely missed despite re-reading it about a zillion times.
> 
> PS: I used google translate for the Russian: Вы обаидиоты (you're both idiots). If its wrong, please tell me so I can correct it.

**SONGS**  

If You Needed Somebody – Bad Company

These Arms of Mine – Otis Redding

Why Can’t This Be Love – Van Halen

Mr Pitiful – Otis Reading

**********

 

Agent Philip J Coulson was an itch that he just couldn’t scratch, right there under his skin, burrowing under and taking up residence. He wanted so desperately to claw and pull at that itch but he knew it could never happen. Coulson was his handler and Clint wasn’t about to ruin that dynamic by asking Phil out. Never mind that fact that he’d been pining for the suit clad agent for over 5 years now. No, Clint Barton was going to suffer in silence until his dying day, be that as an old man or at the hands of the next alien to invade New York.

So Clint carried on not scratching his itch and Coulson went on being seemingly oblivious.

************

Clint was baking.

Clint only baked when he was feeling particularly depressed.

And Clint was feeling particularly depressed thanks to the last mission that he’d been sent on with Coulson. He’d ended up with broken ribs, a dislocated big toe (don’t ask) and a split lip, not to mention the bruises and cuts all over his body. Coulson had pulled him out and hustled him back to the shitty motel that they were staying in and in the absence of any med staff on mission, had cleaned Clint up himself. That meant having the man’s hands all over his body and Clint had had to use every trick in his book not to squirm under the heat of Phil’s palms. He’d pictured Phil’s hands on him plenty of times before but not in the act of cleaning wounds and taping up ribs. Oh no, he’d pictured Coulson’s hands on him in an entirely different setting and scenario. He’s pretty sure that he blushed furiously throughout the whole ordeal and then to add insult to injury (literally), he’d had to share the bed with Coulson to try and get a few hours sleep before the Quinjet came to get them. That was the worst part. Laying the other side of the bed, awake in the dark and listening to the steady breathing of the man next to him and not being able to reach out and touch.

Needless to say, Clint hadn’t slept at all. As soon as he was on the Quinjet the next day though, he’d been out like a light until they’d got back to base where Natasha had woken up with a flick to his ear and an exasperated look on her face. Coulson had marched him straight to medical to get checked out, knowing full well that he wouldn’t have gone under his own steam. Phil had waited with him to make sure he couldn't escape and then he’d driven them back to the tower and they'd gone their separate ways to their own rooms.

So now he was baking.

At three in the morning.

He’d tried sleeping he really had but only managed a few hours. He knew he wouldn’t of any use on the range with his ribs strapped up so when he eventually admitted defeat in the sleep department, he’d shuffled into the communal kitchen and started baking. It had always been a calming influence for him and as much as he’d been teased by the other Avengers when they’d first found out, they soon shut up when they’d tasted Clint’s wares. Tony still teased him of course and looking around at the mountains of finished items on the side, Clint was sure he was in for a bigger ribbing than usual. The huge central island of the open plan kitchen was now stacked with cookies, cupcakes and pastries. He couldn’t seem to stop. Tray after endless tray of the things kept coming out of the oven but he wasn’t feeling any more relaxed. In fact, he may have felt worse. Sighing, Clint figured he’d just keep going until he ran out of ingredients. He was almost out of eggs anyway so the enormous red velvet cake he was currently mixing would be the last thing. It was going to be triple layered with a vanilla butter cream filling and cream cheese frosting smeared around the outside. It was his favourite so he was paying special attention to this one. And he must have finally been tired because he didn’t notice when Natasha slid onto a stool at the centre island. It was a good job his reflexes were like that of a cat so that when he finally noticed her, the cake mix didn’t end up on the ceiling.

“Fuck! Give a guy some warning!” Clint groused as he winced at the pain across his ribs. Natasha just merely shrugged and reached for a still cooling double choc-chip cookie. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

Natasha didn’t reply but Clint already knew the answer. Neither of them were particularly good sleepers, but when you did their job, that was hardly surprising. She was studying him closely whilst munching on her cookie.

“Phil?”

“Yeah,” Clint sighed, shoulders slumping. Natasha knew him too well.

Natasha nodded and took another cookie before sliding off her stool and walking around to Clint. She fixed him with one of her most frustrated looks which was unsettling at the best of times.

“Вы обаидиоты,” And with that she took her cookie and stalked off to her room leaving Clint utterly bewildered as to what she meant. Rubbing his eyes, he went back to his cake mix and tried once again to push the thoughts about a certain Dolce suit wearing Agent to the back of his head.

************

The next morning, Clint wandered into the kitchen to find his team eating cake and cookies for breakfast, even Steve. But then the super solider had a sweet tooth like no-one else on earth, not something people knew about Captain America.

“Ah, our resident baker awakens!” Tony called around a mouthful of cupcake, fingers covered in icing.

“Eye of Hawk, you have surely surpassed yourself this day!” Thor boomed, his plate stacked high with at least three of everything. Clint shuffled over and eased himself onto the stall next to Steve. He swiped the good Captain’s mug of coffee, grimacing a bit at the amount of sugar in it but glad of the liquid.

“Must have been a bad night,” Steve said softly next to him, his blue eyes concerned. Apart from Phil and Natasha, Steve was the only one that knew about his nightmares and restless nights. “Need to talk about it?”

“Na, you’re alright Cap,” Clint forced a smile and patted Steve on one of his huge shoulders.

Steve simply nodded and gave Clint a grin before shoving a stack of 4 cookies in his mouth at once.

*********

Later that day, Clint was restless. Thanks to his ribs being so sore, he wasn’t able to spar with the others or nock his troubles away on the range with an entire quiver of arrows. Instead, he was in the communal living area sprawled across an enormous armchair and trying to concentrate on Raiders of The Lost Ark. It wasn’t easy when his thoughts continuously strayed to a certain someone. He’d not seen Phil all day and it was making his skin itch. His handler wasn’t at breakfast, nor had he been in or around the building all day.

“JARVIS?”

“ _Yes Master Barton?”_

“Is Agent Coulson in the tower?”

“ _I’m afraid not sir. Agent Coulson left early this morning and has not been back since. Would you like me to send a message to him on your behalf?”_

“Na, don’t worry. Thanks J.”

“ _You’re most welcome sir.”_

Clint sighed loudly, not that there was anyone around to hear him. He was bored. Bored and frustrated. And angry at himself. He was sick of pining for someone that would never return his feelings. Why would he? Coulson was not only mouth-wateringly gorgeous but he was smart, had razor sharp wit and was totally bad-ass. Why would anyone like that want someone like Clint? A dyslexic, orphaned ex-circus worker who sassed anyone in authority and had a penchant for baking and the colour purple. No, Coulson was so far out of his league that it made Clint want to cry with how unfair it was. They worked flawlessly as a team out in the field but that was it. Sure, they were friends but that was part of the job. All those hours spent on a perch somewhere with only Coulson in his ear at the end of a comm. link meant that they talked about things. Mainly it was Coulson trying to keep Clint relaxed and awake but he liked to think that maybe Phil was actually interested in what he said and not just humouring him.

“Urgh, stop it Barton, you’re being fucking pathetic,” Clint muttered to himself and went back to trying to watch the film.

********

One by one, the other team members floated into the living area and sat down to watch a film with Clint. By the time they’d finished The Last Crusade, Tony declared that he wanted pizza so JARVIS ordered enough to feed three times the amount of people. Cap and Thor could eat more than most people anyway so it wasn’t long before all the food was gone. They bickered about what to watch next until Natasha just went and put Grease on before anyone noticed. Everyone complained but it wasn’t long before Tony was doing a truly awful rendition of Greased Lightening with all the dance moves which Thor found hilarious. Clint kept glancing over at Coulson’s usual spot on the sofa next to Steve that remained empty. Natasha had curled herself around his back in the huge armchair and poked him in the ribs.

“You’re doing it again,” She smirked the next time he looked over at the empty seat.

“Fuck off Nat,” Clint sighed, elbowing her gently.

Natasha smirked wider but kept quiet.

About half way through the film, Coulson wandered into the living room looking utterly wretched. His tie was loose, shirt rumpled and his shoulders were slumped. Clint tensed knowing full well that he had been in debrief since they’d got back from the mission. He wouldn’t have slept for at least 48 hours or eaten anything decent. Clint’s heart clenched at the sight of the dark circles under Coulson’s eyes and wanted to go over and coax the man into go to bed. But he knew that Coulson would be too wired for a good few hours yet and wouldn’t be able to sleep. His eyes followed his handler as he shucked out of his suit jacket and slung it over the back of one of the stools in the kitchen. He knew how tired Phil must be then as the man would usually hang up his jacket, not sling it over the back of a chair. Coulson then pulled his tie loose and threw that on the counter along with his briefcase with a heavy sigh.

Natasha have Clint a nudge and a knowing look before practically kicking him off the armchair in a bid to get him to go to the kitchen. Clint wanted desperately to go to his handler so got up as casually as he could muster.

“More cake you bottomless pits?” He asked the room as he stood and stretched then hissed as his ribs protested.

“Aye SHIELD brother!” Thor boomed, his face eager at the prospect of more sugar and everyone else agreed.

“Good, because I’ve been saving the best 'til last,” Clint chuckled before heading for the kitchen. He reached Coulson just as the agent was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. It was practically porn to Clint and he swallowed hard as strong forearms were slowly revealed and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. God, he could picture those subtle muscles pinning him down to the bed and holding him there. And Coulson's hands were positively sinful. He’d seen those hands and those long, skilful fingers wrapped around the butt of a gun as well as delicately making pizza from scratch in the kitchen they were standing in. And he could think of a few more places he’s like to see those hands.

For fucks sake Clint, he said to himself. Get a fucking grip.

“How about you sir?” Clint said, surprised at how normal his voice sounded as he dragged his eyes up from Coulson’s arms to his face. “I made enough to feed Steve and Thor about a million times over.”

Coulson sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, a day’s stubble on his face. He gave Clint a tired looking small smile and nodded.

“Coffee?” He asked, rolling his head and shoulders and wincing when he heard something pop.

“I’ll bring it over,” Clint grinned and pushed Coulson gently in the direction of the sofas before busying himself with Tony’s beloved coffee machine. When that was done, he got the red velvet cake out of a cupboard along with plates, loaded it all onto a tray and made his way to the others.

“TA-DA!” He announced, putting the tray on the coffee table. Tony squealed with delight at the sight of the cake and it wasn’t long before they all descended on the tray at once. Around mouthfuls of cake, they all made cooing noises. Well, the noises that Tony made were nearing pornographic and if Steve hadn’t had his mouthful of cake, he would have told him off. Instead he just blushed crimson and carried on shovelling cake into his mouth.

Clint then shoved a mug of coffee and a huge slice of cake into Coulson’s hands and getting a grateful smile in return. Clint felt his face flush slightly and hoped that the lights in the living room were low enough for no-one to see. He got himself a mug and went back to sit with Natasha and tried desperately not to keep looking over at his handler.

“You’re like a teenage girl,” Natasha sniggered at a whisper in his ear.

“Thought I told you to fuck off?” Clint hissed in reply.

Natasha just chuckled to herself and licked butter cream icing off her deadly fingers. Clint snuck another look at Coulson just in time to see his handler’s eyes sliding closed in appreciation as he took a bite of his cake, smearing butter cream over the corner of his mouth.

I am so fucked, Clint thought as Coulson slowly licked the cream off his fingers and sighed contentedly.

That's when Clint’s brain finally broke and Phil suddenly found himself with a lap full of archer as Clint clambered over the coffee table to straddle his thighs. Plates and mugs went flying but he didn’t notice or care as he took Phil’s face in his hands and licked the butter cream from the corner of his mouth with a swipe of his tongue before drawing back and looking utterly mortified. Time froze as their eyes locked; Clint’s hands still either side of Phil’s face

“Sooooooo……. have you guys seen the view from the balcony yet? It’s really excellent this time of night…….” Tony suddenly said, shooting off his seat on the sofa and pulling Steve with him. Steve was blushing furiously but let himself be dragged behind the genius.

“I’ve got something I need to go…..,” Bruce said as he shuffled hurridly off towards the hallway and disappeared.

“Come on Thor, let’s go,” Natasha sniggered, dragging Thor behind her and following Tony and Steve out onto the terrace before he could boom about how happy he was. Her face was soft though as she looked at Phil on her way past, a look of ‘about-bloody-time’ plastered across her features. The moment was broken and Clint came back to himself.

Fuck.

Fucking fuckity fuck fuck

“I...I’m sorry sir....I’ll……yeah…,” Clint stuttered. Find your fucking words Barton, Jesus.

This was it.

He’d over stepped the mark.

Badly.

Coulson was his handler and Clint had just fucked this up royally. He started to move off the older man's lap but was stopped by two strong hands, Phil’s, on his hips.

“I think you missed a bit,” Phil said quietly, his blue-grey eyes questioning Clint’s own blue-green ones.

“Sir?” Clint asked, heart stuttering in his chest. Did he just hear that right?

“I said,” Phil’s mouth started curving up into a soft smile. “I think you missed a bit Specialist.”

Clint didn’t need any further prompting and leant forward, hands still cradling Phil’s face, and licked the rest of the butter cream from the corner from Phil’s mouth.

“I think there’s some here too,” Phil breathed as he brought up a finger to press to one side of his lips. Clint grinned and ran his tongue over the place Phil had pointed at.

“And I’m sure there’s some here,” Phil’s finger pressed against the middle of his lips now and Clint followed with the tip of his tongue. Except this time, Phil kissed him. Just short and chaste before pulling back to search Clint’s eyes. Clint was breathing heavily, his heart hammering in his chest.

“I think I got it all sir,” Clint tried to breathe and he realised that he was shaking. This was everything he’d ever wanted since Phil had found him and brought him into SHIELD. 5 years of pining and he was shaking with anticipation and fear. Fear that this was all a dream or worse still, a joke.

“I’m not so sure,” Phil murmured. “Pretty sure there’s more.”

Clint threw his head back and laughed. Really laughed and it was most glorious sound that Phil had ever heard. It also gave him the perfect view of Clint’s throat and he ached to sink his teeth into the lightly tanned skin there. He wanted to lick and taste every inch of Barton’s throat.

And whole lot of other parts of the man as well.

“Sir, you are too fucking cheesy,” Clint sniggered, bringing his head forward again, eyes heavy lidded and pupils dilating as he took in Phil’s eyes blown with lust and fixated on his neck. That look on Phil’s face had Clint surging forwards and crashing his lips to Phil’s in an urgent, needy kiss. It was all the hot wet slide of lips and when Clint slid his tongue in, Phil whimpered into his mouth and his hands tightened on his hips. Clint put all 5 years of longing and wanting into the kiss, hoping that Phil could feel it. One of his hands slid back into Phil’s hair, the other to his neck, holding him in place. Without realising that he was doing it, Clint started rolling his hips ever so slightly causing Phil to moan into his mouth. Clint pulled away, resting his forehead against Phil’s.

“You. My room. Right-the-fuck now.” He growled and Phil bit his lip. Clint groaned at the motion and they both scrambled to get off the sofa before stumbling towards Clint’s room. It wasn’t easy considering that they couldn’t keep their hands of each other or stop kissing. Clint knew that they’d need to talk about it but that could wait until the morning.

Until then, he had a 5 year itch that needed scratching.


End file.
